Black Blizzards
by LaBellaBella
Summary: Bella Swan is the only daughter of a farmer in the midst of the Great Depression. Is she too proud to accept the help of the new farmhand, or will she end up with more assistance than she bargained for? Written for the AoE contest, rated M for lemons.


**Age of Edward Contest**

**Black Blizzards**

**LaBellaBella**

**Type of Edward: Great Depression Edward**

**If you would like to see all the stories that are a part of this contest visit: The Age of Edward C2 Community:  
****www(DOT)fanfiction(DOT)net/community/The_Age_of_Edward_Contest/70125/**

* * *

Thick beads of sweat seemed to stream across my overheated skin, loose tendrils of hair glued to the sides of my face. My heart pulsed in unison with the steady pounding of my father's hammer against metal, the strong rhythm of pure energy and power carrying from the waving wheat fields in the distance.

I sighed and stood up, arching my sore back after hours of hunching over the same little stone. As I unbuttoned the first four buttons on my loose flannel shirt, I took the moment to survey the product of my early morning's work; about a hundred and fifty perfectly chopped pieces of firewood, stocked in a neat pile to await the faraway winter.

It was a man's job, of course. Any perfectly traditional, self-conservative farm girl knew that. Men were strong, women were weak. Men butchered bloody meats, women cooked them. Men punched each other and wrestled and fought and shouted and perspired, women sat in their respective corners and sewed patches on their overalls.

Men chopped wood, women didn't.

But what choice had I? The year was 1931; and hardly a year it was. People were bankrupt across the country, homes were lost, and everyone struggled. Not to mention the fact that we, the states of the Great Plains, had been consumed by a storm so great we were left hopeless...a dust storm. Our crops ruined, our sheds and houses destroyed; there was barely anything left for us farmers to work with. Which of course, meant that I would be doing a lot of the work around this place until we got back on track.

This was the beginning of my end, as far as I was concerned. I was perfectly content here on this farm for the rest of my life, working hard towards a goal that I knew would eventually come to fruition on day or another, whenever it was ready to. I would stay here in this small town, maybe get married to a dutiful, modest man that would help me and make my life as easy as possible.

That was the American Dream, at least for me. I knew that some people dreamed of love and extravagance and passion, but not me. I was happy to be where I was and who I was, and though I knew that I wasn't exactly the most beautiful girl in the show, I was untroubled about my plainness.

Which is more, unfortunately, than I can say for some of the girls I knew, who would throw a hissy fit if even the tiniest lock was out of place on their pretty little head.

"Hey, hey, hey, Bells, how's it going?"

I grinned, turning around at the booming voice of my father.

And sure enough, there he was, in all of his towering, sweaty glory. He laughed, closing the distance between us to wrap my body in a bone-crushing hug, to which I promptly responded with a disgusted yelp. "Dad, come on! You're greasy!" Gingerly, I tried to pry myself from his iron grasp.

"So are you," he chuckled, but let me go anyway. He turned to my efforts, his eyes lighting up with that same glow he always took on when he was proud of something I did. "Wow, nice job, Bella. _Really_. I don't know what I could ever do without you." He turned his face away from me, instead choosing to look in the opposite direction; the now-rising sun.

Charlie, my father, wasn't the _best_ at showing his feelings...at least in the gleam of the public eye. And even though it was just us together, even though we had been growing closer for almost twenty years, it was still an awkward experience trying to pry emotions out of the either of us.

My mother had died on September 13, 1911: the day I was born. Her body was tiny, even though she had been so healthily pregnant, and the blood loss was just too much. My father had mourned her death greatly, as everyone told me, but was even more grateful that I had survived.

So he raised me, the forever troublesome child (or so they told me; apparently, I had long-since proved the phrase, "A child only gets tougher as the day grows longer" _all_ too much), but not alone. No, my father and I weren't alone at all.

Renee Swan had been a very loved woman. Her kindness and beauty touched each and every one of the citizen's hearts, and in return, they helped _me_. Sometimes little things here or there, like sending a basket of eggs when our few chickens seemed dry, or coming over to put a new coat of paint on our fence that was chipping away in front.

But there were also _big_ things, _huge_ acts of kindness that my father felt he could never repay; most of which occurred when I was very young. Watching me when he was in the field, making sure I didn't get run over by various animals of large sizes, even talking to me about...well, _girl_ problems.

Trying to shift the awkward images of what _could_ have happened without that extra help out of my brain, I said, "So, what's up? Is there something wrong?" I paused, then took on a horrified expression. "Please don't tell me Peaches got into the tomatoes _again_, or I'll just-"

"Relax, Bella," my dad laughed, shaking his head. "I was just going to let you know that I need to run to town for a little while, and someone has to be here to let in the farmhand and show them around."

_Farmhand?_

Immediately, I put my hands up in front of me in the signature 'Stop' signal. "Wait a minute, Dad. Farmhand? Are you serious? We barely have enough money as it is! And besides, remember what happened _last_ time we tried this?" Glaring at him, I put my hands on my hips.

In return, my father shrunk back into himself a little. "Well actually, Bells, this one's ready to work for free. The kid's mother used to be best friends with Renee, and has been visiting here with her brother for the rest of harvest...and I guess she heard about us living here. She visited the other day, when you were at the Gardiner's, and when she heard about the...loss, she was devastated. She said she'd love to help in any way possible."

I looked blankly at my dad, who was now shifting uncomfortably under both my gaze and the weight of the memories caused by the conversation. "_Free_, Bells! How can we pass on this opportunity? I know you always say that you've got it, and I know you do. You can take care of yourself. But there's a lot of work to do around here, and sometimes it takes more than one man and a sixteen year-old girl to do it."

"I'm nineteen, Dad," I muttered helplessly, slumping down onto the wood-cutting stone.

My father ignored this comment, and instead squatted down next to me. "Bella," he said softly, a small smile dawning his face. "Let's just try it out, okay? If we don't like..er...what's the kid's name again? Oh, I don't know. Maybe Esther or Elaine or something." He furrowed his brow in concentration, then apparently deciding it wasn't worth the effort. "Anyway, if it's useless, I'll just tell the woman that we're fine. Just perk up a bit for today, okay? Please, for me."

I looked up into my father's deep brown eyes, identical to my own, and found myself torn.

On one hand, I had my pride. To allow help would be allowing defeat, accepting the fact that I was incapable of doing the work around the farm by myself. But was I really too proud to graciously accept a gift that was truly from heaven?

I sighed. "When does she arrive?"

............................................

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

"Here we go," I mumbled, rolling my eyes as I stood up to walk over to our front door.

It was two o'clock on the dot; exactly the time I had been told to expect the farmhand to be here. My father was long gone, leaving me to attend to the matter of showing the girl around the farm, giving her directions and duties and all that.

Huh. _Directions_.

She better be able to keep up, because Bella Swan does _not_ wait for silly little stupid girls to understand simple tasks.

"Woah, slow down Bella. You still have a little pride to swallow there," I said aloud, chastising myself for being so condescending and pompous about someone I'd never even met before. "She's probably a very _respectable_, decently bred girl. Might even befriend you, even." I smiled.

_Now _that's_ positive thinking._

Taking a deep breath, I mentally prepared my five-minute preliminary speech. I would _firmly_ shake hands with Miss Farmhand (just to let her know exactly how this whole she-bang would work out), introduce myself ("Good morning, I am Isabella Swan"), inform her of her tasks (nothing that would require much labor; simple vegetable chopping and cow milking) and send her on her way.

It was all too simple, really. Genius, even. This way, I would spend my day working the field, and this..._girl_ would stay out of my hair, stuck inside the house for a few hours. My father would be content, I would at _least_ be not ready to strangle someone, and my mother's friend could be at peace that she helped out the poor charity case. Everybody gets a happy ending, no?

Grinning, I threw open the door with more gusto than I initially thought possible, and fell flat on my face.

"Shit." I found myself pressed consequently against our Welcome mat, hand woven by our neighbor, Mrs. Peterson. It was a nice mat, of course, but not something you'd want your cheeks and lips and overall clean face rubbing up against._ Hello, old friend,_ I thought bitterly.

Just then, I heard a small laugh above me, and my first instinct was: this girl is _extremely_ masculine.

"I'm fine," I called up awkwardly before she could say anything. "This happens to me all the time. Don't worry about it, I'm just..." I trailed off, suddenly not knowing what else I could possibly say. I was still laying pressed up against the floor, so I decided that _that_ was my first priority right now.

"Here," a smooth voice chuckled, and instantly a hand appeared before my eyes. It was offering help, as if it could read my thoughts on finding a way up.

So I took it, immediately reveling in the new warmth and pure..._electricity_? Something was coursing between me and this new skin, something alive that had not been there before. It was callused, as if from working every day in the field, and was immensely larger than mine. Much so, that I was able to fit my own tiny (as it seemed in comparison) hand into this.

The moment I let go, the strange feeling stopped, and I almost felt a twinge of regret. To distract myself, I brushed the dirt from my blouse, looking down at my body to prolong the anything _but_ anticipated confrontation between me and this new farmhand. "Uh...thanks," I murmured, mostly to myself. "But we should probably-" I looked up then, which was undoubtedly the worst mistake I could have made right then.

Because this could _not_ be the farmhand.

Standing in front of me was anything _but_ the weak little girl I had expected. Instead, what I got was the epitome of goddamn _gorgeousness_.

It was a man, for starters, if you wanted to call this god a man. He was tall; almost an entire head and a half taller than me, and had this amazing head of messy golden-bronze locks, twisting carelessly in front of his eyes. Those _eyes_...they were more like a pair of the most stunning emerald gems in the world. Yet melted; they were not cold and hard, but liquid and warm, as if someone had taken those emeralds and had deliquesced them.

Everything about the divine being in front of me was perfect, in every way, shape, and form. I found myself speechless, my mind numb and without any trace of thought as I stood in front of this man, this reincarnation of Adonis.

Finally, he spoke, an uncomfortable expression on his face. "So...Bobby?"

_Bobby?_ _Who the hell is..._"Esther?" I breathed, a question as to how my father could have possibly mistaken this man as a pathetic girl to come help peel potatoes.

For one more moment, all was silent, the tension at its absolute peak. I could hear and feel my heart thumping loudly, a mile a minute, and I bit my lip, unsure if what to do in this disaster of a situation. I had so many questions running frantically through my brain; would he still stay? What does he think of me? How does my _hair_ look? I cringed, chastising myself for not taking the time to look a _little_ bit more presentable this morning.

But then, looking at his confused face, those perfect eyebrows arched inquisitively, I couldn't help but burst into full-out laughter.

"I'm sorry," I gasped when he looked at me like I was insane. I didn't blame him; I probably appeared to him as this crazy girl who falls on doormats and calls him Esther. "You look...so...you're _face_!"

Then he got it. "Ha ha." He smirked, but then started to laugh along with me.

After another minute or so of stomach-aching cackling, we grew quiet again, but this time comfortably. I decided to introduce myself, finally and formally: "Well, apparently there was some sort of mix-up. I'm Bella, Charlie Swan's daughter?" It came out as a question. "We were expecting a new farmhand today...I don't suppose you know an Elaine or Esther?"

The man smiled; an action that just about made my heart stop beating for a full three seconds. "Well, I don't know about an Elaine, but my name's Edward. Edward Masen. My mother told me I'd be going to work for a man and his son, Bobby."

As I was savoring the sound of his sweet velvet voice, he took a step toward me, continuing with a sparkle in his eye and that delicious smirk on his perfect lips. "Now, maybe I'm wrong, but you sure don't look like a boy at all to me." His breath was mingling with mine...rich and honey covered and _real_...

Wait a minute; was he _flirting_ with me?

"Oh! Um...thank you...I-" I cut myself off, preventing any further embarrassment on my part. Clearing my throat, I carried on as calmly as I could manage. "We should get going with the jobs now," I announced, trying my hardest not to squirm under his piercing gaze.

For a moment, Edward (my new favorite name, I spontaneously decided) hesitated, staring at me with a peculiar expression swirling in his viridescent eyes. It cleared quickly, however, and he gave me a dashing smile. "Of course. Show me the way."

.....................

We were outside the barn.

Having decided from the moment I laid eyes on those muscles, I knew I could no longer just have this man doing simple, undemanding tasks. And as much as I hated to admit this, hauling bundles of two-hundred-pound hay stacks all afternoon might be a _little_ bit out of my league.

Okay, so a _lot_ out of my league. My original plan for these stacks didn't even include _me_ lifting them. I'd initially counted on my father getting a few of the men from town together to get this week-long job done with each other, though Charlie wasn't exactly the most aggressive in getting things done (which is why I was in charge of planning in the first place).

But with Edward here now, we could get started early; we could straighten our priorities for the winter, be ready for something truly harsh to come.

Now, as I stood outside in front of Edward Masen, the only sound coming from our muted surroundings, I felt a renewed appreciation towards him. He was really helping us, my father and me, and with no cost whatsoever. In just a day or two, he could get us on our feet to jump out of harvest season and maybe even out of these hard times. I felt a strange sense of gratitude for him, of thanks, that wasn't present when I first greeted him this afternoon.

And it was all ruined when the asshole opened his mouth.

"What's _wrong_ with you?"

Those were his magnificent first words to me when I finished explaining his job to him and had given him a quick tour of the farm. What in the world was _that_ supposed to mean? I looked up at him, shocked and unable to respond. After all, what _does_ one say to that sort of outburst from a man you just recently met? "Um...I'm not sure what you mean," I said, a bit self-consciously.

"I mean," he explained, rolling his eyes as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. "Why aren't you reacting to me? Usually girls fall over at the first sight of me. I mean, you did, but not exactly the way I was expecting." He continued, ignoring my outright shock. "And here we stand, and you're able to talk clearly and in full sentences, _barely_ affected by my presence."

Wow. _What_ a jerk. Was this guy really so conceited that he believed I would automatically give myself over to him at first sight? Come on, this guy was attractive (okay, understatement of the year right there), but I wasn't so dim-witted as to immediately fall for his charms.

Instead of replying, I just decided to ignore him, turning around to busy myself (or at least, pretend to be busying myself) with the hay stacks. I was fiddling with some yards of twine when I heard him begin to speak again.

"I bet I could make you swoon like the other girls."

I whipped around to face him, initially surprised to find that he had stepped quite a bit closer to me. I backed up away from him, increasing the space between us. "Oh yeah?" I replied cooly, arching an eyebrow. "Let's see you _try_." I folded my arms across my chest, hoping to show him that I was clearly not like the other girls he knew.

For a moment, he was quiet; no doubt in a state of mental preparation.

Finally, he started. "If I had a rose for every time I thought of you," he paused, looking at me with a laughably wistful expression. "I'd be picking roses for a lifetime."

I snorted. Was that really all he had? Who the hell would fall for that? "Very believable, Romeo. I bet you use that one on all the pretty flames that come your way. _Next_."

He seemed to think for a moment, clearly amazed that I didn't go for that one. "How about this one? If each star represented my feelings for you, I would be counting in the sky until my finger burned." He took a step toward me, his brilliant green eyes clouding over slightly.

I could smell his wonderful scent, musky and sweet at the same time. It momentarily distracted me, but I willed myself to stay focused. "I don't think so," I declared, shaking my head to emphasize the point.

He furrowed his eyebrows. Now I was really starting to confuse him. "If beauty were a sun, you'd shine from millions of miles away?" This one came out like a question, as if Mr. Narcissism himself wasn't entirely sure if I would accept it.

I smiled and stepped in closely to him, so close that I was nearly pressed against his chest...his godly, rock-hard, _totally_ built chest...I mentally shook myself. Now was _not_ the time.

I leaned in, my lips lingering on his earlobe. Gently, concentrating so hard on _not_ messing this up, I whispered in a (hopefully) seductive voice, "Nice try, Grifter, but I don't play that game."

And with that, I pushed myself off him, walking towards the house. But I had to admit: that felt _really_ good.

"So," Edward called, interrupting the silence that arrived soon after that little spurt. "What will you be doing today? Working inside..._sewing_?" He laughed, completing the taunt with little movements of his long fingers, conducting what was supposed to be a crochet needle and fabric.

Oh no. He. Didn't.

"You!" I suddenly screeched, completely blowing off the cool, _I-Can-Handle-Anything-That-Comes-My-Way_ attitude to allow the blasting fury to take over. I stepped toward him one stomp at a time, seething, able to practically feel the steam shooting out of my ears. "You...you...BASTARD!" And with that, I slapped him across the face.

Even with the sheer force of my hand, apparent in the deep red flushed against his right cheek, he still remained collected. My outburst seemed only to amuse him. "Ow," he said playfully, touching his cheek tenderly.

_Oh, so he wanted more?_ Narrowing my eyes, I slapped him again with more force.

He was still grinning that shit-eating grin. "Asshole," I muttered under my breath, and stepped forward again. I raised my arm in the air, mentally building up as much force as possible to hit him as I stared, unblinking, into those liquified irises. One...two...three-

But as I swung my hand, he did something I had all _but_ predicted. He caught it.

"What the-" I started to say, but I was cut off then by the feeling of his lips against my own.

Though I hated to confess this, _nothing_ could compare to the sensation of Edward's soft, warm lips. They were everything lips _should_ be: skillful, confident, assured...and if this was a good thing or a bad thing, I didn't care, but he _certainly_ knew what he was doing.

In the back of my head, a tiny, miniscule voice was telling me to stop, that this was wrong on so many levels. _Bella_, it squeaked,_ you don't want this. He's a jerk, an ass; he's just using you._

But it felt soooo good...

And with that note, I cast that stupid little voice into the darkest corners of my mind, giving myself away to the pure pleasure radiating through my being at that very moment.

My lips, as if they had their own minds, molded and responded to Edward's perfectly, like they were meant for each other. Breathing suddenly became inconsequential, the only essence to keep this fire between us burning, roaring. Pure electricity fueled that passion, that fire, and my skin scorched in the hot flames his touch ignited.

As we kissed, I let my hands run feverishly through his messy perfect locks, relishing in the silky perfection, and then down to his broad shoulders. It was like I couldn't get enough of him, and that our proximity, which was so close you could barely fit a penny between us, was hardly sufficient.

Edward, however, took his time. His hands roamed sensually all over my body, going so painfully slowly I was almost angry. His long fingers traveled everywhere; across my arms, down my stomach, around my hips...they took their leisurely journey as they pleased, until I finally had enough of the stalling.

"Is that all you've got?" I breathed against his lips, surprising even myself with my sudden boldness.

But it got the reaction I'd hoped for. Edward growled; a sound that went straight down to my already aroused center. He pushed our bodies back, farther and farther, until I felt my knees buckle against the stack of hay and I was forced down.

"I was easing you in," he smirked. "But maybe I won't be as easy on you now."

I smiled.

Edward crashed down next to me, his lips once again making contact with my own. But this time, I felt his tongue swoop softly against my bottom lip, testing me, before pressing more confidently. He was asking for an entrance.

Eagerly, I granted it to him, unable to keep back the small moan that crept up my throat by the new taste. Like his lips, he tasted sweet and real, like honey or maple syrup, and it was only a matter of time before we were exploring each other's mouths.

I found out right then that Edward was an _excellent_ multitasker. While his expert tongue fervently massaged my own, his equally adept hands roamed my heated skin, leaving fiery trails that longed for his touch as soon as it left. It was as if he was touching me with actual fire.

But it was a good fire, very much unlike the kind you would naturally shy away from. Instead, I was drawn to it like a butterfly to sugar, addicted, thirsting for more. _An ironic thing_, I thought briefly,_ to be thirsting for something that is quite the opposite of water_.

Edward shifted, sitting up slightly to undo the buttons of my blouse. I did the same to his flannel shirt, aching to catch a glimpse of the body that had been the focus (subconscious _and_ conscious) of my mind since I'd met him a little while ago.

The second we finished our hurried assault on each other's clothes, we both suddenly stopped, drinking in the new sights before us.

It was like neither of us had ever seen the opposite sex before. We stared at each other's bodies with thousands of emotions present in our faces...fascination, surprise, hunger, and perhaps most of all, _awe_. Like we couldn't imagine a more perfect specimen of a human body than what lay before us.

And Edward's body did _not_ disappoint in any way, shape, or form. In fact, it surpassed even my wildest imaginations. The perfectly sculpted muscles upon _muscles_, the long lean torso and unblemished skin; I drank it all in lustily. He was slightly tanned from working in sun all day, I presumed, and I could even see the lightest sprinkling of freckles across his broad shoulders. Unsure if he was real, I reached out slowly to sweep the back of my hand across the stony planes of his abs.

Meanwhile, Edward was completely still, gazing at me with a hooded expression in his eyes. His stare was so intense I felt the need to cover myself shyly, embarrassed to be out in the open in front of a _man _in only my bra and panties.

_This is _not_ something young ladies do_, I heard the voice say, the one I had previously pushed to the back of my mind. _Get your clothes back on before you do something you might regret._

But I knew I wouldn't regret this. As much of a jerk I believed Edward Masen to be, this all felt strangely..._right_. It didn't feel like I was doing something scandalous or taboo, but something my body _needed_ to live, even if I'd never realized it before.

Edward, sensing my sudden wariness, gently placed his hands, large and callused, on my wrists. Tenderly, like he thought I was some sort of glass doll, he moved my barrier away to my sides. He placed his lips at the crook of my neck, speaking softly against my heated skin. "Don't cover yourself," he whispered, his words tickling me and sending a shiver through my spine. "You're so beautiful."

I shifted my head, leaning back a little so I could look into his eyes. The emerald orbs gazed back at me with sincerity and truth, and you know what?

I believed him.

I threw myself against his body, my lips attacking his with a renewed sense of urgency. At first, he was a bit surprised, and he stayed rigid and stiff against me. Then, as what had just happened processed in his mind, he melted into my embrace, his lips responding eagerly to my own.

Our new skin-to-skin contact didn't at all relieve the heat that was searing my body. I still felt like I was standing in a burning inferno, engulfed by the flames that fed off of my and Edward's passion.

Edward's hands skimmed lightly on and around my torso, pressing deliciously in different places. His long fingers seemed to contain raw electricity, and when they suddenly ducked under my bra, gliding across my hardened peaks, I gasped.

"Something wrong?" Edward murmured against my lips, rolling my nipple with his thumb incredibly.

"I...um..." My words struggled to find themselves, and for a moment I forgot I even had anything to say to him. But as I willed myself to stay focused, if only for a moment, I cleared my throat. "Edward?" I said, furrowing my eyebrows.

He smiled. "Yes?" he hummed, now palming my breast with his talented hand.

God, I thought in my head, and bit back a moan. "Edward!" I said abruptly. "I need to tell you something."

"What?"

"I'm...a virgin."

.......................................................

**(EPOV)**

I looked into those glorious pools of chocolate brown, gazing at me so innocently, and I wondered how I'd gotten so lucky to have stumbled upon this angel. Everything about her enticed me; her creamy smooth skin, her pretty pink pout...even the rosy blush that seemed to consume her cheeks every five minutes. She was absolutely beautiful, and as I lay there with her silky mahogany locks spilling around me, my hands on her perky, taut nipples, I'd almost forgot what she just told me.

Almost.

I froze. "You're a v-v-" I couldn't get the word out. I was stunned. "You...you're...vir...v-" How could this vixen not have done this sort of thing before?

Bella looked at me innocently through her lashes; an action that just about made my heart stop.

"I've never done this before, Edward, and I don't really know what I'm supposed to do," she paused, biting her luscious bottom lip as if she were unsure of something. "But I _do_ know that I don't want to stop." And with that, she reached into my pants and grabbed my hard-on.

"HOLY SHIT!" I shouted, practically jumping out of my seat.

"Vulgar language, Mister," she purred, now slowly rubbing her hands up and down my length. The combination of this and her succulent voice instantly made me ten times harder than I already was. "I don't know if I like that in my house. I just may have to teach you a lesson."

I watched with wide eyes as she slid down my body, her full breasts pushing together as she did so. Even in that stark white bra, she was stunning and sexy, a temptress unlike I had ever seen before. She unbuttoned my jeans, sliding them down along with my briefs torturously slowly as my cock sprang to life.

Bella, at first, gazed warily at it, as if she was worried about something.

_Well, duh_, I reminded myself._ Don't be so insensitive. This is her first time, Edward. You should going slooo-OH MY GOD._

All thoughts flew out the drain as she lowered her head slowly, giving the head of my length a small kiss with her succulent lips. "Bella," I said quickly. "You really don't have to do that." _God, I can't believe I'm saying this shit_. "You don't have to prove anything to me, we can just-" But she cut me off by putting me into her hot little mouth.

I don't think I've ever felt anything like this. Nothing, and I mean _nothing_, could compare to the feeling of being engulfed in Bella's perfect lips. Wet, hot, heat radiated around my most sensitive area, and I could feel myself quickly spiraling into ecstasy all too soon. I was falling off the edge _fast_, and I needed her to stop.

"Bella," I moaned. "You need to stop."

She shot up, a hurt expression on her face. "Was I not good enough?" she looked at me with tear-filled eyes, and my heart broke at the thought of this angel crying. What the hell was I, a woman now? God, next thing you know I'll be picking pansies and daisies and dancing in the sunshine.

Ignoring this thought, I pushed a stray hair behind Bella's ear. "Shh," I consoled her, picking her up to straddle my lap. I caressed her glorious body gently, slowing slightly when my hands got to her perfectly curved hips. There I stopped my hands, and instead rubbed soothing circles onto her flushed skin. "You were amazing, Bella. Absolutely perfect. But it's my turn now."

She beamed at me.

Quickly, I switched our positions so that she was on her back, her legs spread open and waiting for me. She looked beyond gorgeous like this, but there was still a small problem.

"Tisk, tisk, Bella," I teased, looking at her with a mock sternness. I touched ran my hand along the edge of her panties lightly, feeling goosebumps rise where my touch landed. _That's right, _I thought happily, _I_ _did that to her._ "These _have_ to go."

Little by little, I edged the offending piece of fabric down her creamy thighs, anxious to see the pinnacle of my fantasies since I had met this divine creature. But at the same time, I didn't want to rush this perfection. I wanted to take it slowly, and not have this be like some little fling with an easy broad.

Bella was special. There was something about her that drew me in, and not just physically. Even though I'd only known her for an extremely short while, and even though I'd been nothing short of a complete ass to her since the moment we met, I knew she was different than the bimbos that roamed around my old town.

When my mother told me I'd be going to work at a widower's farm today, I'd had absolutely no idea it would be like this. I was expecting the old man Swan and his boy and a day's full of hard work in the field. Instead, I had this goddess in front of me, one that was stubborn and sarcastic and touchy and wonderful and gorgeous all at the same time.

And she was ready and waiting for me.

"Bella," I said softly, looking up into her doe-like brown eyes. "I just want you to know that I...well, you know I'm not a virgin...but I want...or....you should know that I didn't come here to use you. I really want to help you and your father, and I think there's a lot more to you than just a body...well, I mean I've only known for a little, so I can't really judge or anything, but-" I felt like a blabbering schoolboy, stuttering in front of his first crush.

She cut me off, leaning over to put a finger on my lips. "Please, Edward. Just be quiet."

I smiled and kissed her delicate finger once before pushing her back. "I want you to relax. Enjoy this, okay?" When she gave me a nod, I bowed my head down to look at her for the first time.

Bella was perfect. Her lips were exactly the same shade of pretty pink as the lips on her face, her folds small and already glistening with her juices. Tentatively, I parted them, earning a small whimper from her as I ran my finger up and down the slit. She was so wet, so slick, that I was surprised she wasn't dripping down her thighs.

I bent down, kissing her clit once as she had done to me before giving one long lick along her swollen center. I had to admit, I was surprised. The juice spilling from her love flesh was the sweetest I'd ever tasted, and I actually found myself eager to go on; something I'd never before felt.

With that steady action, she moaned, loud and long and sweet. "Edward," she cried, writhing in anticipation beneath me. "_More_."

And of course I complied. I started my assault on her beautiful pussy: licking, sucking, and nipping. The mewing sounds Bella made below encouraged me even further, so much that I had to fight the strong urge to smile against her, to let out a chuckle. She was in so much pleasure, it seemed, and I didn't want to spoil the moment.

But then, just as I felt her walls starting to quiver and tense, I pulled away in one abrupt movement.

"Edward!" She shouted, anger clearly present in her tone. "What the hell do you think you're doing, you asshole?"

"Your words are cute, sweetheart," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes. "But I think you're ready for the real deal."

Her eyes widened in understanding, and suddenly the angry look paled from her face, giving way to an almost scared expression. I softened, my heart melting for this beautiful creature in front of me. "Bella," I smiled sadly. "You know, if you really don't want to do this, I understand. If you feel like we're moving too fast, we can-"

"No," Bella said sternly, cutting me off. "I..." She took a deep breath. "I want you, Edward."

I let out a breath of relief. "Good," I grinned. "'Cause I don't think I could have stopped this heaven if I wanted to."

I positioned myself at her wet entrance, biting back a groan when my tip grazed lightly against her heated core. I had to keep myself from pounding into her, at least for Bella's sake, to keep from plunging into her so deeply it would hurt her to walk for the next few days.

"Are you ready?" I forced out, my breathing labored from concentration so strenuously. My arms shook on either side of her, my muscles struggling to keep myself held up over her. "Are you ready, Bella?" I repeated, unaware that it had barely been a moment that I let her respond.

"Yes," she breathed.

I nodded, and swallowed hard as I eased about half of my cock into her treasure, earning a gasp that barely escaped her throat.

"Oh, God!" I cried. "You're so _tight_, Bella!"

And then I got to her barrier, that thin little membrane stopping me like a brick wall.

"Just do it, Edward!" she screamed. And I did.

I was now fully sheathed in Bella. Sheathed in the tight, wet, hot walls so deeply it felt like I could just die a happy man right there. I mean, if I thought being submerged in her mouth was bliss, then this was pure euphoria.

Through the foggy haze of my infinite bliss, I vaguely heard Bella telling me to keep going. "Move, Edward," she was telling me. "Please move."

I went along with her request and started to move, to push in and out of her slowly. Then, faster. Soon I was rapidly thrusting in and out of her, desperately seeking the friction we both deserved. Though part of me was afraid I was going too rough, that I was hurting her, she kept yelling for me to go harder, faster.

_Jeeze,_ I thought. _Who would've thought little virgin Bella was a screamer._

I knew I wouldn't last much longer. The tightness, the heat; it was all too much for me to handle all at once. Never before had I felt this much passion with a woman, so much immense pleasure. I was going to cum soon, and I was frantically trying to stop myself. This wasn't just about me. Bella needed this just as much, if not more, and I needed her to know that I wasn't just taking advantage of her for my own selfish purposes.

"Shit, Bella!" I shouted, hammering into her even harder.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I started to feel Bella's walls contracting around my member again, pulsing heavily in the rhythm of our thrusts. "Come on," I urged the goddess. "Come _on_, Bella." I reached down to flick her clit once, and then twice.

It worked. In one final spasm, Bella came around me, squeezing my cock so tightly my own release was immediately triggered and I spilled into her swollen core. Quickly, I switched our positions so that she was above me, and collapsed against the ground.

We lay there for a moment, our breathing slowly going back to normal as we rest, still pressed against each other.

After a few moments, I heard the slightest twinkling of laughter, a delicate, pretty sound coming from on top of me. I looked up to find Bella giggling happily, her nose scrunched up in the cutest manner, her chocolate eyes light and warm. Her sniggers soon turned to full-out laughter, and soon I couldn't help but join in her hysterics.

"And what," I said in between amused chuckles. "Is so funny, if I may ask?"

She grinned, placing her tiny hands on my chest to draw invisible designs on the contours of my muscles. "Oh, nothing," she replied passively, distracting herself with her recent artwork. "I just thought it immensely funny that we just made love outside _my_ farm, on piles of hay we were _supposed_ to be stacking."

"Oh, we'll just tell your father that it's a job that requires another day," I winked.

She giggled again, a sweet sound I would never tire of. "Or two."

"Or three," I grinned.

"Who knows," Bella sighed dramatically. "Perhaps it's a task that may even take weeks. You know, you can never be too thorough."

I smiled. "I couldn't agree more." Pausing, I reached up to run my hands through her messy dark locks. "You have straw in your hair, Dollface."

"Hmmm..." She hummed, pressing her lips against my jaw. "I suppose you're right, Sheik." And I absentmindedly twirled her brown silky curls through my fingers, the birds chirping happily and the gentle wind whistling around us, I could hear her murmuring something to herself, something said so softly I would have missed it if I were paying any less attention to her every move.

"This farmhand thing wasn't as bad as I thought."


End file.
